Chapter III. The Price #2
“The old man glanced to the elderly woman beside him. Despite the opulent surrounds, the High Inquisitrix was dressed in simple black leathers, a blood-red tabard embroidered with the Angel Naél’s flower and flail, a black gauntlet on her right hand.
Her food was untouched, goblet filled with water.
Though her troops had taken no direct action about it, as far as we knew, the death warrant issued for Gabriel and Dior had yet to be rescinded by the Tower of Tears.
The Inquisitrix’s reply was soft as pipe smoke.
“‘A very dangerous thing, Pontifex Gascoigne.’
“‘Still,’ Isabella smiled. ‘When in a storm, the wise woman prays to God, yet rows for shore. In the coming battle, we should use every advantage we have, oui?’
“Prince Philippe nodded. ‘The Corpse King has retreated to San Maximille, but he will return come the frost. With the troops House de León has mustered, we can meet Voss with a force to be reckoned with. But if we could bring back the sun…’
“‘Is it wise to put such stock in promises of the Dead, Majesty?’ the Inquisitrix asked. ‘Do you truly believe the Lord God would entrust our fate to corpses and children?’
“If all on earth is the Lord’s plan, then Mlle Lachance’s coming must also be his holy design,’ the Empress said.
‘All Augustin has witnessed her power, good Inquisitrix. It cannot be doubted such gifts come from the Almighty himself. If our only requirement to bring back the sun is to unite her with the Redeemer’s blade, that seems a cheap price to pay, no? ’
“‘Your Grace…’
“Dior cleared her throat, glancing to Reyne.
“‘I … I fear the price might not be so cheap as all that.’
“Isabella tilted her head. ‘Indeed?’
“The Grail drew a long breath, as if before the deepest plunge. Reyne squeezed her hand, Joaquin watching with faith undimmed. And meeting the Empress’s eyes, she spoke.
“‘The Esana Prophecy says I have to be united with the sword my forebear used to try and unify all Elidaen. But to bring the sun back…’
“Dior snatched up her goblet and took a long gulp.
“Isabella’s brow rose ever so slight.
“‘I have to sit the Fivefold Throne he sought to build. On the day of Maidsfeast, a few months from now…’ The Grail looked to the Empress, eyes filled with childish hope. ‘… I must be crowned Empress of all Elidaen.’
“All chatter stilled, all whispers stopped, even the soothsingers ceased their playing.
Empress Isabella sat motionless, Prince Philippe looked incredulous, Reyne snatched up her own goblet and downed it with a single swallow.
A silence, vast and complete, fell over the hall, broken at last by smothered chuckling.
“It was the Pontifex, red-faced, mid-mouthful, trying unsuccessfully to stifle his laughter with his kerchief.
Eventually the old man abandoned his attempt, falling into a fit somewhere between coughing and guffawing.
Beside him, the dour High Inquisitrix softly scoffed, and nobles around the high table soon joined in, the quiet replaced by peals of laughter more dreadful still.
“‘Y-you?’ Gascoigne managed to wheeze. ‘Empress? ’
“‘I’ve thought about it!’ Dior declared, shouting above the guffaws. ‘It doesn’t have to be forever! The prophecy says I need to sit the Fivefold Throne, but not that I have to keep it! So you just crown me at Maidsfeast, and next day I can give it right back!’
“‘Impressive,’ Inquisitrix Maya sneered. ‘An apostate and a traitor.’
“Joaquin rose to his feet, glowering as he slammed a fist upon the table. ‘Dior Lachance is no traitor. And I’ll suffer none to name her such, madame.’
“‘You threaten violence in these halls, boy?’ the Prince asked.
“‘I threaten nothing, Highness,’ Joaquin growled.
“The gathering was in soft uproar now, laughter dissolving into a gabble of whispers as folk began to realize the Grail might actually be serious. Dior pulled Joaquin back down to his seat as Philippe looked to Isabella, absolutely exasperated.
“‘Mother, this is outrageous. How long do you intend to entertain this madn—’
“Isabella raised her hand, not deigning to look at her son. And though clearly displeased at being once more silenced, the heir to the empire bit his tongue.
“‘You will forgive our son his manners, Mlle Lachance. Some folk insist on talking, even when they know not what they talk about.’
“The point was well taken, and in a few moments, all chatter had ended, quiet descending upon the banquet hall once more. With a meaningful glance to the mezzanine, the Empress set the soothsingers playing again.
“‘You and Gabriel de León must have gotten on famously, Mlle Lachance. Neither one of you are exactly creatures of subtlety, are you?’
“‘Your Grace, please believe me. I don’t want the throne, I just want this all to end!’
“‘And in this, sweet child, you stand not alone. Elidaen’s people are my children all, and there is nothing I’d not give to see the sun rise true and bright for them once more.
But what you ask is … ludicrous. A descendant of Maximille the Martyr has ruled this empire since it was forged.
And though your gifts be undisputed, our gratitude for your deliverance of our city unmeasured, you are… ’
“‘A blasphemer,’ the Pontifex sneered.
“‘A murderer,’ the Prince added.
“The Inquisitrix nodded. ‘And a whorechild.’
“Isabella’s glance brought silence. But her eyes were sad as they returned to Dior.
“‘These are desperate times. But the crowning of a monarch is a holy act, conducted by the head of the Almighty’s church, not before a court, but a congregation. The Serment Impérial is sworn before God and Mothermaid and all the angels of the heavenly host. I am no emperor. But were he here, my husband would surely counsel as I; that the Fivefold Throne of Augustin is no taverne stool whereupon the crown of empire might be shuffled back and forth like a grain of corn in a game of guess-a-cup.’”
Deep in the bowels of Sul Adair, Jean-Francois turned his page and chuckled.
“Our good Mlle du Graal was hardly the most adept of politicians, was she?”
“No,” Celene replied. “But up ’til then, she’d no real need to be.
Dior began life as a grifter. A thief. She had become a battle-blooded leader, able to inspire the masses with the wave of one bloodied hand, oui.
But truth told, though she had a sly, gutterborn sort of cunning, she was no courtier.
No stateswoman. And as Isabella stared her down, cold and imperious, it became clear just how out of her depth Dior was here.
“‘Your Grace?’
“Isabella’s eyes shifted.
“‘Princess á Maergenn.’
“‘Forgive me,’ Reyne said, curtseying with perfect form. ‘In your ineffable wisdom, I am certain you have already considered this—’
“‘Flattery is wealthless woman’s comfort, Princess. We’ve no need of fool’s gold.’
“Reyne lowered her mismatched gaze, carefully shifting her tone. ‘Forgive me again, then, Your Grace. But I think I might see a solution to our dilemma.’
“‘Speak, then. But pray, give our good Pontifex a moment to swallow, lest he choke.’
“The old man was back into his meal, dabbing at his beard with a napkin and murmuring apologies.
All ears were now bent toward the Princess as she lifted her chin.
Reyne stood tall, proud; a daughter of the Ossway, yet raised among these nobleborn serpents and well versed in the music they swayed to.
“‘My knowledge of prophecy is imperfect. But from what Maryn told us, daysdeath will end when a descendant of the Redeemer sits as ruler of this realm. Yet a ruler need not sit the Fivefold Throne itself. Emperors and Empresses rule side by side. If that Empress were wed to an Emperor of Maximille’s line, House Augustin’s rule could continue unabated.
And more…’ Reyne swallowed, glancing for but one heartbeat to Dior, ‘… the fruit of such a union would be of Augustin and the Redeemer’s blood entwined. ’
“The hall was gone silent again now, the light of realization dawning in the eyes of the clergy, the nobility, the Prince, but most, Dior herself. Her eyes were wide, voice cracking as she whispered.
“‘Reyne…’
“‘You say there is nothing you’d not give to see the sun rise true and bright on your people once more, Your Grace,’ the Princess said.
‘And I for one would cut the tongue from the head of any man who named you liar. The Forever King will return come wintersdeep, but with daylight on our side, this war ends amorrow. So it seems the price for victory over the Dead, while the steepest sort, need only be paid by one of us in this hall.’
“Mismatched eyes fell again on Dior, brimming now with tears.
“‘Perhaps a few of us.’
“Reyne clenched her jaw then, steeling her resolve.
“‘Wed your son to the Holy Grail, Your Grace. Unite the lines of Augustin and the Redeemer, the rule of heaven and earth made one. Bring back the sun to our sky, and the hope to our hearts. Give your crown to your firstborn son, and his hand to heaven’s daughter, and your name to the pages of history as she who saved this empire entire.’
“‘Mother—’
“‘Oh hush, Philippe.’
“The Prince scowled, cheeks pinked with fury. Isabella was motionless, eyes shining like cut jewels. Her Pontifex and Inquisitrix were both unmoved, firm in their convictions about these blasphemies. But around us, in the minds of every marquis and count and baron, we felt a tremor now.
“A whisper.
“All had seen the holy work of Dior’s hand, after all.
The sick made well. The city saved. The Forever King himself fled before her divine wrath.
And looking upon her now, clad in dove white and gold by Isabella’s own hand, Dior Lachance looked every inch a holy child of heaven.
A fitting bride for Augustin’s brave young prince.
Their union would guarantee continuance of Maximille the Martyr’s bloodline, united with that of the Almighty himself.
And as the courtiers of the Golden Halls began to whisper among themselves again, one point had now been made abundantly clear by the Princess á Maergenn.
“A single crown for the return of the sun was a cheap price to pay indeed.
“Reyne wiped at tear-stung lashes and slowly took her seat. Dior rose wordlessly and stumbled toward the exit. And Philippe, firstborn son of Alexandre III, looked to his mama with a question in his eyes.”
Jean-Francois clucked his tongue, shaking his head as he dipped his quill.
“Now that is a politician.”